


Fundraising

by OzQueen



Category: Cold Case
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, Drinking, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to see you all there,” Stillman says, and that's the end of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fundraising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatBecomesOfYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatBecomesOfYou/gifts).



“One more thing,” Stillman says, halting them all before they split away to investigate the various threads of their new case. “Friday night is the 35th PPD fundraiser, hosted by the regular political big wigs in town. It'll be at the museum, and every single one of you has a ticket, courtesy of yours truly.”

“Boss,” Lilly says, sounding exasperated.

Stillman holds up his hand. “This is for a good cause, Lil, and you can count it as work if you need to justify taking the night off.”

Lilly catches Vera smirking at her.

“I want to see you all there,” Stillman says, and that's the end of it.

-

Scotty buys Lilly a coffee from a vendor on the street and says, “So you got 57 hours to come up with an excuse to avoid this thing.”

“Shut up,” she says, shrugging herself deeper into her coat. “I can be social.”

He grins at her but doesn't say anything else.

-

Vera leans back in his desk chair, his arms folded over his chest. “You think he'd buy it if I said I had other plans?”

Jeffries doesn't even look up from the file he's reading. “Nope.”

-

“Am I the only one lookin' forward to this?” Kat asks, tapping her pen against edge of her desk. “I could use a night out.”

“This ain't a night out,” Scotty says. “This is work in formal wear.”

“And the booze will be overpriced,” Vera adds.

“It all comes back to PPD,” Kat says, glaring at him. “You're always complaining about how under-funded we are.”

“I shouldn't be the one who has to fix it,” Vera grumbles.

-

Lilly reluctantly lets go of her coat. The museum is airy and cold, the crowd not big enough to warm the open space yet, and her dress isn't suitable at all for such a wintry evening.

The main atrium is humming with voices and soft music. She hovers close to the wall, her shoes pinching at her toes, eyes searching for a familiar face. She can recognise people, but none of them are people she'd choose to mingle with.

She's only here for Stillman.

-

Kat stands with her arms folded, her eyes locked on Vera. He's loitering by the bar that's been set up near the centre of the room, waiters in crisp shirts running back and forth with silver trays. Someone's opened a tab, and glasses of sparkling wine are being rushed out by the dozens.

Vera slips something inside his jacket and spins casually on his heel, eyebrows raised in an overdone expression of innocence.

Kat catches up to him in three seconds. “Tell me I didn't just see you _steal_ from a fundraiser set up to assist PPD,” she says.

The neck of the bottle of whiskey is poking out of the top of Vera's jacket. “I'll split it with you,” he says in a low voice.

Kat narrows her eyes at him, but glances around. “Out back,” she says. “Two minutes.”

She takes out the biggest bill she has in her purse and stuffs it into the jar on the top of the bar before she follows Vera.

-

Jeffries is already sitting in the shadows, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his tie loose. “What took you so long?” he asks, moving over so Kat can squeeze in beside him.

-

“Judges are too soft now, that's the problem,” Donovan says. His eyes linger on the bare skin of Lilly's shoulder. “Everybody's too scared to make the tough decisions. Not like the old days.”

Lilly shifts her aching feet and makes a quiet noise at the back of her throat.

Donovan drones on again, and Lilly looks over his shoulder to catch Scotty's eye. He's standing at the bar, watching her with a grin on his face.

She narrows her eyes at him.

He shrugs back at her and holds up his hands – a bottle of something in one, two glasses in the other.

“Excuse me,” Lilly blurts, and she steps around Donovan and marches as quickly as she can towards Scotty, her heels clipping sharply on the floor.

-

“I owe you one,” Lilly tells her partner, the slow burn of alcohol at the back of her throat.

“You owe me more than one,” he says, his eyes searching for an escape route. “Not that I keep track or nothin'.”

“Right,” she says dryly, and she follows him through the crowd to the back of the room.

-

“You scrub up all right,” Vera tells Lilly, looking her up and down.

“You missed a button,” she says, gesturing at him with her glass.

Jeffries gives a rumbling laugh and leans over to top her up.

-

“I got five bucks on you, Lil,” Scotty says, though she suspects it's just out of loyalty, because Jeffries and Vera have both backed Kat, and they scoff openly at Scotty's decision.

“What do you say - no matter who wins, Vera goes to get us all another drink?” Kat asks Lilly.

“No argument from me.” Lilly pushes up the sleeves of Scotty's jacket and leans forward, her hand clasped with Kat's.

“Loser gets the drink,” Vera argues.

“Lil, five bucks,” Scotty says again.

Kat wins the arm wrestle.

Vera holds up what remains of the whiskey. “Too much of this left to risk leavin' yet,” he says.

-

The door is pushed open, and light spills into the room. They all blink in surprise.

“Hey, Boss,” Kat says, sounding as guilty as they all feel.

“This is what you call socialising?” Stillman asks, looking at them over his glasses.

“You said we had to come,” Vera says, pointing at him with the whiskey. “You didn't say nothin' about socialising.”

Stillman looks back over his shoulder, into the main room of the gallery, where everything is light and noise and laughter. He sighs and steps into their little alcove, pulling the door closed behind him. “Anything left in that bottle, Nick?”


End file.
